The days after leaving Belladomas's glade had settled into a tense rhythm, each one blurring into the next, weighted with the silent awareness of danger. The group moved in near-silence, winding through forests so thick that sunlight barely filtered through the canopy, the mist curling around their ankles like pale, ghostly chains. Sylvia kept the spell pulsating faintly in her hands, the glyphs glowing with a gentle hum that reminded them that their advantage, however fleeting, was delicate and dangerous. Every step toward the Kingdom of the Arcanes carried weight, and the closer they got, the more tangible the peril became.
Sylvia led the way, bow strung and eyes scanning the horizon. Her Flame coiled lightly around her wrists, warmth and power thrumming through her bones. She felt every vibration in the ground, every shift in the wind, every subtle disturbance in the forest. The spell in her hands hummed as if impatient, reminding her of the responsibility it carried. Behind her, Kael followed closely, sword sheathed but ready, muscles taut with alertness. Every shadow held the possibility of danger. Tharion's wings were folded tight, his steps measured, each hooffall deliberate. Lyrielle hovered lightly, wings brushing against the fog, ears straining to catch any whisper of movement.
"The closer we get," Kael said quietly, voice rough with restrained worry, "the more we'll see. Anastasia won't leave a single approach unguarded. The kingdom… it's probably crawling with Grims and dark magic."
Sylvia didn't respond at first, letting her eyes take in the horizon, sensing beyond what the eye could see. "I can feel it," she murmured. "The clouds… the smoke… the fear. It pulses, alive, and it's waiting for us."
Tharion's ears twitched. "You mean the Kingdom itself?"
"Yes," Sylvia said, her voice tight. "We're close enough to sense its heartbeat. It's… wrong. Something unnatural lingers there. I can feel the fear radiating from its walls, the shadows crawling in ways they shouldn't."
Lyrielle's eyes narrowed. "Even from here? Through all the trees and fog?"
Sylvia's jaw set. "I feel everything Anastasia has touched—the fear, despair… the slaves, the sacrifices. Every echo of her cruelty."
Kael's grip on his sword tightened. "Then we move carefully. No mistakes."
The forest pressed in around them, dark and alive. Every snapping twig, distant caw, and rustle of undergrowth made them tense. Hours passed in near silence, punctuated only by the sound of their own careful steps. Sunlight flickered through the dense leaves above, casting fleeting shadows that made the mist look like smoke rising from unseen fires. Twisting vines snagged boots and claws alike, and tangled roots forced them to lift every step cautiously. Even Tharion's powerful stride slowed, each hooffall deliberate, every step a negotiation with the forest.
Sylvia's thoughts wandered, as they often did in these moments, to the kingdom ahead. She imagined the towers of obsidian and crystal, black smoke curling into purple skies. The slaves' cries and whispered prayers echoed in her mind. She thought of the creatures who had been forced to serve Anastasia, of the dark elves who had fled, the enchanted beasts trapped in cages. The spell in her hands hummed like a heartbeat, reminding her that she carried the means to strike back—but only if she did it perfectly.
Tharion's deep voice broke the reverie. "Do you feel it?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the shadows. "The land itself seems… uneasy. The trees tremble."
"It's the kingdom," Sylvia said. "Even from here, it's reaching out. We can't ignore that pulse of darkness."
Lyrielle shivered, wings fluttering nervously. "I've never felt magic like this before. Even the air smells wrong. Thick… almost alive."
Kael exhaled sharply. "We can't linger. Keep moving. Eyes open. Every step matters."
The forest seemed to shift, shadows bending unnaturally as they passed. The mist thickened, curling around their ankles, creeping over roots like living snakes. Every crack of a branch, every rustle of a leaf made them flinch. Yet, despite the tension, there was a rhythm, a strange beauty in the way the forest clung to life even under the oppressive aura of the kingdom ahead.
Suddenly, Sylvia halted. Her bow rose instinctively, eyes glowing faintly red-orange through the mist. "Something's ahead," she whispered. "Magic… old, potent… dangerous."
Kael signaled for them to stop. "Spread out. Eyes open. Don't make a sound until we know what we're facing."
From the shadows emerged a faint shimmer, a Grim scout moving like a shadow of smoke. Its black-and-purple armor glinted under the sparse sunlight, eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood. Its presence alone sent a chill down their spines. The forest seemed to hold its breath as they watched it move, calculating, patient.
Sylvia exhaled slowly, letting the Flame coil around her wrists like living serpents. "We can take it," she said, voice low and steady. "Kael, Tharion—flank. Lyrielle, cover the air."
The attack was instantaneous. Kael dashed forward, sword flashing in the pale light, while Tharion's hooves struck the earth in a thunderous rhythm, closing in from the side. Lyrielle darted overhead, wings slicing through the mist with graceful precision. The Grim swung a curved blade, smoke curling like serpents around its arm, but they were faster, stronger, coordinated. Flames danced from Sylvia's hands, coiling around her arrows before she let them fly, piercing the Grim's defenses.
The scout went down with a hiss of smoke and sparks. Its body writhed, incapacitated but alive, a warning to any who might approach. They paused, letting their breathing settle.
Kael exhaled, eyes dark. "Good. We're not weak anymore. But the real test is coming. The closer we get to the castle, the worse it will be."
Night fell as they camped beneath twisted trees, shadows stretching across the forest floor. Their fire was small and controlled, casting flickering light over anxious faces. Conversation was low, voices edged with tension.
"We need to test the spell before we strike," Kael said. "We can't rely on timing alone. Anastasia's power is… unpredictable."
Sylvia held the glowing glyphs Belladomas had given them. They thrummed in her hands, impatient, a creature of raw magic eager to break free. "It's unstable if we aren't focused," she said. "One wrong move, and it could collapse."
Tharion grunted. "Or worse."
Lyrielle shivered. "And that's why we do this now. Quietly. Carefully. Without mistakes."
Before the sun rose, Sylvia led them to a clearing near a creek. Mist hovered like smoke, low and thick, while the trees arched protectively overhead. "This will have to do," she said. "We need space, focus, and silence. The spell is delicate."
Kael placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "We trust you. We know you can control it."
Sylvia inhaled, letting the Flame flare around her hands. Her eyes glowed faintly red-orange as she channeled energy into the glyphs. The air thickened, vibrating with raw magic. Tharion and Lyrielle added their energies, Kael brought focus and discipline, and together they formed a fragile, humming nexus of power.
The orb of magic began to grow, pulsing like a heartbeat, sparks of energy leaping between their hands. Sylvia felt it strain against her control—every nerve alive, every thought sharp, every muscle taut.
The orb wavered. Flames whipped from Sylvia's hands, her hair catching faint light. "Focus!" she shouted. Allies tensed, holding positions.
Finally, the energy stabilized, brighter and purer than before. Phase one of their plan had succeeded—for now.
Kael lowered his hand, eyes serious. "This is it. When we reach the Kingdom, we use this. Only one chance."
Sylvia nodded. "One chance… and we won't fail."
The forest seemed to shift around them, shadows stretching and twisting as if alive. Somewhere ahead, the Kingdom of the Arcanes waited—ominous, purple-skied, black smoke curling from its spires. Anastasia's reach was far, her dark magic pervasive. But they were ready. The assault was coming, and the kingdom would not remain unchallenged.